


Chain of Command

by highlycommendable



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:13:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23975059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highlycommendable/pseuds/highlycommendable
Summary: Poe Dameron meets his match when a well-respected Commander returns home from a long journey of infiltration, but the pair seem united by their similarities, not divided by their differences.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	1. Landing

**Author's Note:**

> poe dameron babie I love

The moon of Ajan Kloss was beautiful. Full to the brim with lush, leafy jungles, beautiful exotic flowers and the gorgeous sunsets, the Resistance couldn’t have picked a better place for the new base. The whole place screamed hope, glory, beauty, and that’s what was fuelling the recent efforts. The Falcon was nestled amongst the trees in the hangar sectors, in a clearing, and from where Poe was catching a breath of fresh air on the peak of the main cave. No one usually bothered him up there, except a frantic BB-8, or a certain Snap Wexley, L’ulo on quiet days.

Luckily, Jess, Sura and Karé had not yet found where they went to hide away.

Still, Poe was alone. Alone and thinking, twisting his mother’s pendant in his fingers. It was only mercy missions that had been completed recently, sending supplies to the weakest planets and very quiet First Order interceptions only in the far Outer Rim. Poe thinks his mother would have been proud. Proud, but determined to make a bigger dent in the enemy. He swipes a hand through his hair against the gentleness of the moon’s breeze and looks to the skies.

Blue, crystalline, peppered with sprouts of white clouds, all the less wary of the large containment of ships far below. Those nets over the trees concealed the place really well- Poe was impressed, for once. But something distracted him from his ever-surprising impressions.

There was a whir of fighters in the air.

No squadrons had been put out on leave today, and there were no exercises, because Poe would have most certainly taken to the skies immediately. His heart pauses on the offbeat. Through the veil of clouds, a cluster of six X-wings sinks, fairly in-shape and pretty clean. Poe frowns, standing from his grassy perch.

He didn’t recognise the paint-work, nor the Resistance code on the underside of their noses.

BB-8 scrambles through the dirt, sliding back and forth as he tries to scale the hill, squealing like hell. Poe holds his hands out to catch the whirlwind droid, spinning like a top, and laughs quietly.

“Buddy, what’s got you so worked up?” BB-8 beeps wildly, his body still rotating. “A new Squadron? Where?”

So that’s who the unfamiliar ships were. A new squadron and their Commander.

A new Commander. Poe leaps forward, and starts off down the slope of the cave, leaping across some particularly rugged land to hit feet-first among a flock of pilots. Jess approaches from the back of the pack, and grabs his wrist.

“Diamond Squadron are back from their long-run!” Poe frowns. “Diamond… they left before you even joined. They’ve been across the galaxy shitting on the First Order! Come on, Leia’s waiting to welcome them back. I thought you would have already been down there.”

“How old is this Commander, anyways?” Poe asks casually, ankle bumping into BB-8 as they rush for the landing zones.

“They were super young when they left. I think nineteen or something.” Poe blinks, admittedly shocked. Nineteen year old Commander? Poe was only made one a few years ago. “No offense, CO, but I think you’ve got some competition.”

That boils Poe to the brim, and he brushes through a crowd of pilots, comms officers and new recruits until he spots Leia. The X-wing she stands in front of is… pink. Painted white with long pink lines. An amused smirk crawls up Poe’s face when he thinks, a man wearing pink stripes as his commanding X-wing? Ha.

The pilot pops the cockpit and stands up, dressed in a strange flightsuit, not orange, but khaki green, wearing a Resistance-grade helmet too, which they quickly reach up to take off.

Poe’s jaw drops. From the helmet, a sheet of shock red hair tumbles, to the pilot’s shoulders, which he now realises is no man. She blinks around the scenery with a windswept, wild grin, one Poe was daringly familiar with. It was the same thing he wore back into his quarters after a fun mission. She pushes the hair out of her face and leaps to the ground, running for Leia, who opens her arms to the woman. They embrace for a moment, and Poe takes their split apart as a time for him to approach. 

The girl’s eyes focus on him first. Brown, wicked, beautiful, but Poe wouldn’t say that. Maybe he would. Suddenly, he feels like he doesn’t really have much control over what he’s about to do. She’s unzipped her flightsuit too, down to her waist, exposing a black tank beneath it, and beneath that… well. Poe clears his throat, catching the General’s attention too.

“Ah! Poe, I wondered when you would come along.” Leia lays her hand on his shoulder with an emotion softened smile. “This is… my niece.” The girl shoots Leia a disapproving look. “Not by blood, of course. Sima, this is Poe Dameron, my top Commander. He leads Black Squadron.”

“General Organa has things messed up, Commander,” The woman greets, sticking her hand out with a sparkling smile. Poe feels it like a punch to the gut. “Simone Abiss. Commander of Diamond Squadron. I’ve heard a lot about you in Wild Space. Seems a reckless golden boy gets quite the publicity in the underworld. I’m surprised the Order hasn’t caught up with you.”

“I can’t say the same for you, unfortunately, Commander,” Leia gives Poe a warning look as the two Commanders head off. “No one has spoken a word about you here, strangely enough.” Simone’s squad members gather around. A Mirialan, green-skinned with dark tattoos, a pair of human males, an orange Twi’lek with sharp blue eyes, and a strong-jawed Pantoran man, who pulled off his helmet with a single hand. 

“That, Dameron, is because these guys were on a classified mission. They left many years ago.” Leia holds a scolding tone in her voice. “Now, we got your quarters ready yesterday, all of you. Not much is happening around here, but I’m sure you’ll enjoy some peace for now, Simone, Faelie, all of you.” Leia gestures for Threepio. “Threepio, will you take these guys to their places for now? I’ve got to brief Commander Dameron.”

“Of course, Princess- General!” 

Poe crosses his arms and watches the new squad go, being awed upon by the crowds of new cadets and old. He narrows his eyes. How did he never hear about them?

“Poe.” Leia hisses, hitting him gently in the arm. “Play nice. Simone is not one to mess with.”

“Oh, I apologise. She was kind of slating me on the spot, and you just watched. How come she doesn’t get the talk?”

“Simone doesn’t know you. She only knows rumours. Believe me, she’s not so cold with her squad. In fact, she’s the best flier on the planet,” Poe opens his mouth to counteract. “Because she doesn’t fly with her ego in one hand, Dameron. Just let her do what she needs to do.”

“This is so unfair, Leia. I don’t even know the woman.”

Leia fixes her gaze coldly on the brazen pilot. She shakes her head slightly and entangles her hands. She looks troubled, to say the least.

“Poe. You are one of my most trusted here. So is Sima. Please, understand that I need both of you working together. These are troublesome times. You are both incredible pilots and Commanders.” Leia pauses, giving Poe a measured look. “Anyway, you have more in common with each other than you think. Perhaps you’ll grow to like one another.”

“Sure, General. Whatever you say.”


	2. Bottoms Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia and Simone have a conversation about Poe, two days after her return. The Resistance drinks in the makeshift cantina.

The command room was quiet. A few of the officers had gone, leaving only a couple way across the room. I opened my mouth to speak to the war-weathered General across from me. She raised a hand and nodded.

"I know." She murmurs, softening the crease between her brows.

"Where the hell did you find him?" I ask, incredulous. “I mean, seriously, I’ve never had anyone back into me like that. Felt like being run down with a speeder!” Leia chuckles, shrugging, scanning through our huge mission report from a trip to Felucia. “He’s bold.”

“Yes, that’s why he’s good… and bad.” She says slowly. “Boldness can get you into tricky situations, and it has for him. The Battle of Takodana, I sent you a transmission about it, he’d only just returned from the First Order back to us. Finn, our very own defective stormtrooper, had somehow broken them both out.” Leia explains, sitting her datapad back down on the holotable. “Does he remind you of someone?”

“Am I supposed to know?” She’s wearing a mischievous smile. “Luke? Han? I’m not sure…”

“He reminds me of you, Sima. A lot of the time. Reckless, brilliant, clever, etcetera.” She lists fixing a soft gaze on me from across the table. Threepio and R2-D2 re-enter the room. Only two days ago I’d watched Lux ribbing into Threepio on our way to the bunks, asking all manner of questions to piss his programming off. Lux would know. He reprogrammed Threepio before we left all those years ago.

“That really hurts my feelings, Leia.” I joke, giving her a short-wired look. She shrugs it off, smiling to herself in a way that makes me highly suspicious of her ideas. “What’s next for us?”

“Recon missions, supply runs, things like that, Commander. We’re not really on the offensive here- there aren’t enough of us. But…” She hesitates. “There are a few spy contacts. They’re all over the place, really, but we’ll get you to one of those in a few days.”

“Few days?” I ask incredulously. She looks at me again, in that humanising way that suddenly makes me feel a bit… guilty.

“There are a lot of other eager pilots here. We’ll put you on the far out ones. Diamond Squadron always get the job done, like our resident Black Squadron.” She murmurs.

“That’s his?”

“Yeah. He’s a real wonder in the skies.” She admits, shaking her head. She picks up a datapad again. “He’s really good. Supposed to be the best.”

“Oh? Really!” I narrow my eyes. Leia laughs, raising an eyebrow. “I’ll race him out to shut him up. That damned ego is gonna be a problem, General.”

“It already has been.” She says slowly. “But he’s redeemed himself. He’s brilliant.” My nose wrinkles in answer. “Maybe you should try and get to know him instead of ripping out his throat for making a snide comment at you. He feels threatened.”

“That much is clear.”

“He’s from Yavin IV, anyway. You asked where I found him.” Leia glances up from her reports. “His mother was very, very good.” I frown. “No, he did not get the position off the bat. He used to fly in the New Republic.”

“Great. Grand.” I scoff, smoothing a finger over the outer ridge of the holotable. “I’m going for a drink.”

“Please, no fights today.”

“I’m countin’ on it, Leia.”

—

“We’re back, baby!” Faelie calls, reaching a hand out for me when I breeze into the bar, flightsuit down, tied around my hips. “Finally. Feels good to be home.” 

Faelie is the Twi’lek, wild and buzzed by the looks of it, off liquors I can’t name. Hala stands nearby, laughing heartily at her drunken friend, her green-toned skin glowing under the dim lights of the cantina bar. Well… it’s sort of a cantina. Del and Haron, the two human males, share laughs over a pair of long-necked beers. Talon only shows up a few minutes after I’m half way into a new round of beers, my second.

Half and half was always a good way to manage a squadron, that’s why there were equals on both ends of the spectrum. As soon as Talon lines up with the bar, Faelie throws an arm around his waist and leans in close. Doesn’t stop fraternising, that’s for sure.

I sling another beer and murmur an excuse about needing to sit down, settling on a crate in a secluded corner of the cantina. Before a full minute of being left alone, I’m joined by someone, my eyes shut. I open my left one, and spot Poe Dameron nudging himself into the seat beside mine, up against the close, opposite wall. I take another swig of my beer in preparation.

“Oh, good.” I murmur. “Hello, Commander.”

“Simone.” Not even a sense of respect comes along in his voice. He doesn’t address me properly either. Definitely authority issues. “You having fun?”

“Hm? Oh, well, I guess. I’ve had a few, sorry…” He raises his own beer to his mouth and drinks. I find it a little difficult to draw my eyes from his soft lips. “They taste like bantha piss. I don’t remember them being so grim.”

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Commander?” I raise an eyebrow at him and nod slowly. “Few years, right?”

“Yep.”

“Sorry.” He suddenly breathes with an amused smile. “My squad have been going on about your lot all day, so, I think they’ve rubbed off on me.”

“I know L’ulo. I don’t know the rest. ‘S kind of weird.” I breathe with an air of teasing. “Leia told me though- you’re good.”

“Good? Is that all she can muster?”

“I think that’s all she’s willing to admit, Dameron. Don’t want to inflate your ego any more, right?” I’m a little pressed at the ease in his tone, asking about the General. They may have been close, but I really don’t want to add anything to this guy’s belt.

“Sure.” He says, clipped.

“Sima?” I make eye contact with Poe before sighing sharply and raising my eyes to the Blue Squadron leader, Tel Avin, who grins wickedly down at me. “Been a while, sweet thing.”

“Yeah, Tel. What you want?”

“Oh, come on, you ain’t just gonna leave me hanging?” He asks, blue brows creasing in question. A bulky Squamatan, he was handsome, sure, but brainless and egotistical.

“Yeah, I am. I’m having a drink with my buddy, here.”

“What, Dameron? Yeah, sure, honey.” He drawls, picking up my hand from my knee. I flinch, pulling it away like fingers on a flame.

“I’ll see you around, Tel.”

“Maybe next time, gorgeous.”

When he slopes away, I’m a little nervous to meet the eye of my drinking buddy. Poe chuckles breathily, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Seriously? Tel? Of all the people you could have fucked, you chose him.” Poe is amused, certainly, but you are not.

“Oh, since when were other members of the Resistance allowed to comment on my love life?” I ask, infuriated by his satisfied smirk. Fuck Tel. He’d come over and ruined it all. “I’m sure there’s not much I can comment for you, since I’ve become quite surprised anyone can stand to be near you for more than a debriefing.”

Poe’s brows quirk, and his lip twitches. I narrow my eyes at him, and take a long drink of my beer, keeping my gaze on him. He shuffles, uncomfortable. That’s more of the reaction I was searching for when he sat down, ego first.

“That’s the sort of response I was expecting, Commander. No need to further ground that by opening your mouth.” I snipe, draining my beer. He leans forward on his elbows.

“Who put the pole up your ass?”

“The First Order did, sweetie. So, maybe, I don’t know… drop the attitude, drop the carelessness, pick up a little responsibility and actually fly your squadron into something promising instead of into another fleet of TIEs. Pleasure speaking with you, Dameron.”

“I’ll see you around, Commander Abiss.” He says, a mocking tone in his voice.

Leia was so wrong. This guy fucking sucked. 

And I was certain I’d prove that.


End file.
